Chasing Ghosts
by Rising From The Flames
Summary: "I flew over the grounds, through the gate with the winged boars, down the streets of Hogsmeade, away from decisions, from pain, from myself. I once heard someone say that sometimes you just need to run away to see who comes after you. No one did."


** Hey! So, it's been kind of a long time since I've written anything for FF, but I am back, for thanksgiving, at least. This is a one shot for the Quote challenge and the There Is a Love Some Know Not of challenge. **

**I used 6 quotes from There is a Love Some Know Not of Challenge:**

**- True love is like ghosts, which everybody has talked about and few have seen. – La Rouchefoucauld**

**- Friendship often ends in love, but love in friendship…never. –Charles Caleb Colton**

**- You need to have a little faith. Not everyone you love is going to leave you. **

**- Walking away is easy. It's the staying that's hard.**

**- Waiting hurts. Forgetting hurts. But not knowing what decision to make is cruelest of all punishments.**

**- Sometimes you just need to run away to see who comes after you**

**And I used one from the Quotes Challenge:**

**- Life isn't waiting for the storm to pass; it's learning to dance in the rain.**

**I do not own Harry Potter :'(**

**Chasing Ghosts**

True love is like a ghost, which everybody has talked about and few have seen. It sneaks up behind you, shrouded in the folds of life. Waiting for just the right moment to step out of the shadows and enfold you in its wings. But that moment is fleeting and more often than not, we are turned away when it makes its appearance. Although it tries to get our attention we do not notice its presence, being too caught up in the ever-winding maze of life. When the tapping on our shoulder gets to be too much to ignore we turn around, but the magical moment is over and True Love has resumed its place amidst the shadows, never to come forth again. That is how it happened for me, except that I turned around in time to see True Love, only to watch mutely as it faded back into the shadows.

I always held a firm grip on my emotions; keeping them in check, making sure they never got out of hand. I played along with what everyone wanted and expected of me, never allowing my emotions to interfere with my life. I ignored the butterflies in my stomach every time he talked to me, and the wave of desire that ran through me whenever he kissed me. But by the time I realized that I had true love within my grasp, it was too late.

But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. The beginning so often hides behind the ending in our memory, but every story has a beginning, even if they can be hard to find.

This story starts many years ago when I was but a little girl. Both my parents were purebloods, something they made impossible to forget. My mother came from a well-respected and influential family that had squandered all their money, while my father came from a family with mountains of gold but no influence. It was a perfect match, politically at least.

In public my parents were the image of happiness, but when they were home where no one would see them they would shout back and forth across the dining room until my father threw something or my mother ran from the room, crying. I can't remember a single time when they enjoyed each other's company. In fact, the only thing they ever had in common was their love for my older brother, John, and me. One of the few things I've ever been sure of in my life is that they did truly love us, even if their way of showing it was showering us with gifts because they couldn't find the time to spend with us.

One evening, something was different; a suffocating silence filled the dining room instead of my parent's usual insults. Half way through dinner my mother stood up and walked out of the room without saying a word. That was the last time I ever saw her. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. The only thing she left behind was a letter addressed to me, scribbled hastily in blotchy ink.

_My Dear Pansy,_

_ I am leaving. My parents told me that I would come to love your father over time when they sent me off to marry him, or that we would at least become friends. They lied._

_I have hated your father from the moment I laid eyes him. But I have had enough. I am leaving. Remember this, my daughter: Friendship often ends in love, but love in friendship… never. Goodbye._

_Love,_

_Your Mother_

That letter in the hands of an eleven-year-old was meaningless. All I understood was that my mother was gone and I knew she would not be back. I broke down crying, unable to hold back the flood of tears brought on by the departure of my mother. I ran to my father's study. I wanted him to hold me close and tell me everything would be okay, that it was all just a bad dream, but he didn't. He stared at me for a minute. I tried to crawl onto his lap but he pushed me off. I started crying even louder. He hit me. I froze, my hand rising to the bruise already forming across my cheekbone. It took a few moments, but when I realized what happened I ran back to my room, threw myself on my bed and cried some more. My brother came in and sat next to me, trying to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks. We sat there together all night, never making a sound and never moving.

Only later would I realize that on that day I also lost my father. After my mother left, he changed. The smile that always hid in the corner of his mouth was gone. He barely came out of his study and when he did he acted as if John and me did not exist. During this time John and me clung to each other. We were each other's anchors to reality. We were each other's proof that the world was still turning and that time hadn't stopped the second my mother stood up from the table on that fateful night.

Then I started at Hogwarts. I was thrilled to go to the school my brother had told me so much about, but most of all I was thrilled to get out of the house and away from my father. When I got to school I was sorted into Slytherin and they welcomed me with open arms. I felt accepted for the first time in what felt like years. I joined in all the bullying of my friends and acted the way I thought my father would have wanted. I tried to be the perfect Slytherin, the perfect pureblood. But that summer my father continued to ignore me. So it continued for three years; the relief of being back at school and the heartache of returning to my father's house for the summer break.

In my fourth year, Draco Malfoy, a fellow fourth year and a Slytherin, asked me to the Yule ball. Thinking that hooking up with the son of Lucius Malfoy might impress my father, I said yes. That was the first of many dates, many hours spent in secluded areas of the grounds or unused classrooms. I found myself actually starting like him. But I had felt the consequences of losing someone you love, and I refused to let myself feel any more than the enjoyment of his company.

The summer before my sixth year, John started acting strange. He was moody all the time and rarely left his room. Sometimes I would hear him muttering when I passed his room. I would peek and find some dead animal lying in the middle of the floor. A few days before school started, he vanished. No one knew what happened to him. Two weeks later there was an article in the daily prophet about him; he had joined the Dark Lord and was killed by an auror while torturing mudbloods.

That was the final straw. I had now lost everyone I had ever let myself care about. I decided that it would be easier if I didn't let myself care at all. I ignored my emotions; I was just an empty shell going through the motions of life. No one seemed to notice, except Draco. He was he one person I was never able to hide anything from.

One day, he cornered me in a shadowy area of a rarely used hallway. He held me in his arms and asked me what was wrong. I told him it was nothing and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me go. He then kissed me sweetly, but firmly. I felt my resolve to not feel anything waver, just as it always did when he kissed me, but this time it was different. For the first time I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted him to hold me tight and tell me everything's okay; that he'll always be here for me, but I didn't. I pushed him away and rebuilt the walls around my emotions. He just stared at me for a long time, still not relinquishing his grip on my waist. Finally he spoke.

"You need to have a little faith. Not everyone you love is going to leave you." I just stared at him. I hated that he always knew exactly what I was thinking about; how he always knew exactly how I felt, even if I hadn't figured it out yet. That hatred was the only reason I had the strength to do what I did next.

I pulled away from him again and this time he let me go. I knew my features were hard and cold, but at that moment I didn't care. I wanted to hurt him so he would stay away from me and save me from being hurt. I glared at him for moment before turning around and walking away.

"Walking away is easy. It's the staying that's hard." I heard Draco say from behind me. He sounded on the verge of tears. I hesitated for a moment, he seemed so fragile lately, but I hardened my resolve and continued walking.

That night I lay awake staring up at the hangings on my bed. I didn't cry, I was beyond crying, but inside my head I was curled up in a little ball, screaming in agony. I had lost yet another person I cared about, and this time it was my fault. I wondered if I wasn't doing the wrong thing. I made up my mind to talk to Draco in the morning and see if I couldn't set things right for, no matter how much I tried, I could not hide the fact that I loved Draco any longer.

Sadly, I never got my chance at that conversation. That night there was a commotion in the castle. I later found out that Draco had let Death Eaters in and had then run off with professor Snape. I didn't know what to think. A part of my mind knew that what Draco did was wrong, yet all I could think about was whether he was okay.

That summer I went home to find that my father had been arrested for murder and sent to Azkaban. As much as I hated myself for it, I felt relieved that I would no longer have to see the empty shell he had become.

When I returned to Hogwarts for my final year I kept waiting for Draco to arrive, but he never came. All year I waited, expecting him to come through the door at any minute only to be disappointed when he didn't.

Then Voldemort attacked the school. I left with all the students being evacuated, but I soon managed to sneak away from the crowd. I returned to the grounds, but didn't join the fighting. I had to find Draco; I had to know he was okay. When the grounds started to clear I hid in the forbidden forest, waiting, hoping he would come out into the open. Then Voldemort brought out a dead Harry Potter and the battle started up again, only to fade to a stop minutes later, and still there was no sign of Draco.

I waited in the forest for what felt like forever. I realized that all my life had been spent waiting; waiting to go to Hogwarts, waiting for my parents to realize they loved each other, waiting for my mother to come back, waiting for my father's praise and attention, and waiting for Draco. I felt my heart tearing apart. I needed to see Draco; needed to know he was okay, but I did not want to wait any longer, I had done enough waiting. What if he never showed up? What if all I ever do in my life is wait? What if… What if… What if that's all my life turns out to be? a long string of what-ifs? I felt torn; waiting hurts, forgetting hurts, but not knowing what decision to make is the cruelest of all punishments.

The appearance of a shadowy figure by the lake caught my attention. It was Draco. He was standing there, his silhouette etched against the dark night. Now that he was here, I didn't know what to do. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him, or shout out to him and watch the surprise on his face when he turned around and saw me. I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay, that every bad thing that ever happened to me was just part of a long nightmare. But I knew it wasn't, I knew that there was no way he could erase the scars left by those I loved. Scars that he could so easily add to.

I stood up and hesitantly pushed my way through the thick trees, arm-like branches grabbing at my clothes. Once in the open, I froze. My feet would not carry me any closer to the figure at the edge of the lake.

An owl hooted in the distance, making me jump. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Draco turn. I knew he had seen me. He stood as still as a statue, staring at me from across the grounds. I knew that his eyes were pleading for me to come towards him. I knew he wanted me to come running into his arms but my feet would not move. We were caught up in a timeless space, neither of us moving, waiting to see what the other would do.

The owl hooted again, shattering our fragile cocoon of time. I felt the control of my legs return and took a step towards him, then another. Then, before I could change my mind, I turned around and walked away. Tears streamed down my face as I broke into a run. I flew over the grounds, through the gate with the winged boars, down the streets of Hogsmeade, away from decisions, from pain, from myself. I once heard someone say that sometimes you just need to run away to see who comes after you. No one did.

That was the last time I allowed myself to feel anything. I married a rich pureblood. Our relationship was based on indifference. I no longer cared what happened to me. Time became an endless blur without an end. I walked through life in a haze, never caring enough about what I did to pay any attention to life. My two daughters grew up in the care of a nanny; my grandchildren never knew their grandmother.

One day, while I was lying in a bed in St. Mungoes, just waiting for death to claim me, an old man about my age walked into my room. He stared at me for the longest time, then, taking my hand, helped me out of bed. We walked through the hallways and out to the courtyard. He led me over to a bench and sat down next me. Smiling mournfully, he took my hands.

"Why did you walk away?" He asked quietly, capturing my gaze in his sparkling gray eyes.

"Draco" I said, smiling. It wasn't a question. We didn't say another word. As the sky was starting to darken cold rain droplets splashing down on us. I made to stand up to go inside, but he held me back.

"You've been waiting all your life for the storm to pass." He said, his voice tinged with revelation. We stared at each, the world around us fading. We were the only two people in the world. "Dance with me?" He finally asked. Without hesitation I took his hand. He spun me around, my body gaining strength as we danced to the sound of the rain on the paving stones. We were soaring through the sky, just the two of us, the way it should have been all along and I realized that life isn't waiting for the storm to pass, its learning to dance in the rain.

**I hope you liked it **

**Please Review!**


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